On the drive home with the music rumbling bass through our backs from the speakers behind us, I skim over the texts I’ve received from my friends. Monica is annoyed that she again can’t find me. I turn off my phone without replying. All the chatter gets old. The perpetually urgent news and scandals.
I settle further back into the seat, the music, and stare at the darkened road lit by the headlights. Caleb and I haven’t spoken much since church ended. There’s something unspoken between us that I can’t quite put my finger on.
Maybe it was the message. About God being the core, the root of love. How does it all fit together with real life?
CALEB
This entire day could only be described as strange. At least, that’s the word I’m sticking with.
We drive back with Red Hot Chili Peppers, one of their early albums, in the CD player. I give her my old leather jacket and a blanket from the back of the jeep, and I find it endearing that she tries hiding the fact that she’s shivering.
At a stoplight, I ask, “Need anything? Coffee? Food?”
“I would, but I forgot about homework,” she says. “They don’t give us a break for prom weekend.”
I have a compulsion to smooth down her hair. It’s sticking up in all directions and she’s this mixture of adorable and vulnerable that I want to protect and consume at the same time. It doesn’t matter who she is. She’s Kate and I’m Caleb. Last names, families, bank accounts, none of it matters right now. Right now, we’re cold and we just left a great church service. The music and message were solid, and with her beside me, there was a sense of perfect peace.
“You were surprised that I knew some of those songs,” she says when we pull up to the hotel. So she was thinking about church on the drive home too.
“I’m always surprised when heathens know worship songs.” She gives me a playful knock on the arm, and I can feel a lasting impression of her knuckles in my skin.
“You have a lot of preconceived notions about me,” she says, not moving from her seat as the jeep idles.
“Likewise. You were surprised I went to church at all.”
This girl has a strange power over me. We’re bantering, but it’s for fun—not to win, like with Finn or others. I would probably lose every fight with this girl.
She’s smiling and her eyes connect with mine. “I not sure why you invited me or why I went, but I liked your church. It’s just very different from my church.”
“What’s your church like?”
“It’s more . . . traditional.”
“That can be nice at times too.”
She nods. “I’ll have to invite you sometime.”
“Act surprised when I bring my Bible.”
“I will, for sure.”
There’s a moment of silence between us, which could be awkward, but isn’t. Finally she says, “I guess we’ll see each other at school tomorrow.”
This hits me like a slap to my face. School is reality. How will she and I act toward one another once I’m on her territory, in her elite world? I’ll definitely be the odd guy there. How will we be who we are now, there?
“If you weren’t my official student escort, you’d probably be too stuck-up to talk to me.”
This strikes a nerve with her. “I can’t believe you just said that.”
“You have to admit, it’s true.”
“No, it isn’t,” she says, sitting up in the seat.
“So how many guys like me have you dated?”
She stares a moment and shakes her head. “You’re being unfair.”
“I guess I am, since I don’t date girls like you.”
She gathers her things. “Thank you for letting me know. I don’t consider this a date, so don’t worry. Now as long as we both understand that, I guess we’re good to go.”
I want to take it back, but now I’m feeling defensive, so I don’t respond.
“I’m going now,” she says and before I can stop her, she’s out of the jeep and gone.
Chapter Seven
The lady doth protest too much, methinks.
WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE
Hamlet (Act 3, Scene 2)
KATE
“Hello, my name is Kate Monrovi and I’m your student escort. Welcome to Gaitlin Academy—a school for tomorrow today.” I make myself smile, practicing this in my head, trying to decide if I should use it. Perhaps it will make him laugh and forget about last night’s conversation.
“Hello, student escort Kate Monrovi, at your service.” Every one of my practiced lines sounds cheesier than the last. I’m trying to get from cheese to cuteness, and it’s definitely not working.
I’m a little unsure if I should make it obvious that I’m waiting for him. But Ms. Liberty gave me the assignment of student escort, so I am seeing it through.
I try about five ways of doing my hair and finally just leave it down. We’re supposed to meet at the quad. It’s strange that when I was at school on Friday, I caught that glimpse of Caleb and now it feels like I know him and he knows me. We don’t . . . we can’t know each other, right?
The idea of Caleb at school doesn’t work in my head. Every time I’m with him, reality disappears. Everyone will be talking about Caleb soon. He’s the new guy that all the girls are waiting to see. The intrigue over him has only increased since Friday when Alicia took the blurred photo of him—was that really only last Friday? Now they’re talking about how he rescued Katherine and then disappeared. And as soon as he arrives, it’ll all begin.
I sit casually in the quad, act like I’m looking for something in my book bag. I say hello but don’t follow my friends toward class. “I’ll be right there,” I say.
Oliver walks by with a shake of his head. He knows exactly what I’m up to. Jessica is hanging by my side, gushing about how amazing the prom was, when I hear the arrival of a motorcycle. Again I’m surprised at the reaction of my body—heart racing—and I can’t concentrate on Jessica at all. It’s a good thing Monica isn’t here yet.
Gaitlin Academy is a small, private preparatory day school for kids from the Pacific Northwest. We are the children of politicians and the ultrarich. It’s said that Bill and Melinda Gates have considered GA for their children. Most of our alumni head off to Ivy League schools or some (those with former hippie grandparents or parents) may end up at UC Berkeley or University of Oregon in Eugene.
We are less formal than prep schools on the East Coast; New York parents think that out West we lack tradition and structure, and their children think we live in the backwoods. On the West Coast, Gaitlin Academy is considered elitist, academically excellent, with a tuition that often exceeds the average local income. Local high schoolers mostly revile us as wealthy snobs. News stories have blasted Gaitlin as discriminatory at times, to which the school responds with its record of scholarships and minority students. Since my father was elected to the school board, I’ve heard more than I’d care to hear about my school.
Ted spots me and starts walking like he’s the coolest guy on the planet. Sometimes I envision Ted plotting and practicing in the mirror every look and movement that he makes. He’s too smooth—like an actor playing a part. I don’t think anyone has seen the real Ted. Now he’s chatting with several underclass girls as he works his way over.
I set my purse on the bench and dig through it like I’m searching for something again. When I do a quick glance to see where he is, Ted smiles and raises his chin in a hello. Mr. Ego probably believes I’m playing hard to get.
“Hey, Kate,” Ted says, leaving the two freshman girls to wander off with disappointed expressions.
“Hey, Ted.”
“I’ll walk with you. I wanted to ask you anyway if—”
“Oh, sorry, can’t,” I interrupt, not wanting him to ask me anything. “I’ve been given a special mission by Ms. Liberty.”
“Special, not secret? No instructions exploding in thirty seconds?”
“Nope. I’ll catch you later.”
“Sure. No prob
lem.” He nods his head like he’s some rapper or something. “I’ll see you at lunch.”
I give a quick nod, hoping that will get rid of him quickly. Ted studies me for a moment then turns away.
Caleb comes up the walkway, helmet in one hand, backpack on his shoulder. I try not to smile at him in his Gaitlin uniform with his striped tie, button-up shirt, blue sports jacket, and slacks. Somehow he still manages to pull off looking casual. He walks in his easy-going way that reminds me of someone who has lived most of his life on a beach—which, of course, he has, unlike, say, Ted, who tries hard to emulate such a walk. Caleb’s got a relaxed, unhurried way about him that I guess many people from the islands exhibit.
Ted has disappeared into the crowd of students. Caleb sees me, and our eyes hold each other as he moves toward me.
“Morning?” Caleb says, like it’s a question.
“Hi.” I stare at him a moment, coming to terms with Caleb and Gaitlin Academy. It’s like water and oil, but there it is.
People turn as they pass us by. I feel heads turning our way across the quad. This isn’t the most inconspicuous place to meet.
“I thought I might be on my own today,” he says with not one hint of a smile.
“You should be, after what you said yesterday.”
He looks at the ground with a smirk on his face and then up to me. I’m lost in those ridiculously deep brown eyes of his.
“I apologize,” he says and seems to mean it.
I don’t know what to say and find myself muttering a simple, “K.”
We have an awkward moment, or rather I’m awkward while he continues to watch me, raising an eyebrow like I’m interesting to study.
“So you have your class schedule?”
“Right here.” He taps his forehead. “First period, Calculus in room 205.”
“You’re in Calculus?”
“That’s what the paper said.”
I wouldn’t have guessed that. I’m still in pre-calc, but I don’t mention it.
Caleb recites the rest of his schedule, including room numbers. Walking by us, Alicia says hello to Caleb as she passes then smiles at me. Caleb’s eyes follow her with a frown on his face.
“I think that girl took a picture of me when I was enrolling.”
“Very likely,” I say. “We have social studies together fourth period. Mr. Beemer—it’s one of the more interesting classes.”
“Great. Will you sit by me?” he asks, and I almost say yes before catching on that he’s teasing me.
“Do you have a map of the campus?”
“I thought that’s what you’re for?” He’s in quite a humorous mood. Then he shrugs. “I’m pretty good with directions.”
“Isn’t that what all men say?” I bite my lip, trying to get over my discomfort. Why is Caleb so at ease while my hands are shaky?
He smiles. “Not to brag, but I’m exceptional with directions.”
The clock chimes in the tower. School starts at 8:05 AM.
“Not to brag, huh? How can you be so sure? You lived on an island—every direction eventually ends at the ocean, right?”
“I was lost in the mountains when I was seven. And when I was twelve, a friend and I were lost between Maui and Oahu on a little homemade sailboat we made. I navigated my way out of both.”
As I get to know Caleb, he becomes more intriguing instead of less. “Okay, so you don’t need a map, then. But here is your first class. We don’t have the same lunch, so I won’t see you except in fourth period. You have my cell number?”
“Yes,” he says and whips out his dinosaur of a cell phone.
“Is that an antique?” I hope he doesn’t flash that around in front of other people. A protective instinct rises in me. People here can be vicious behind their perfect, bleached-white smiles. This isn’t the right place for him, and I fear what the mob might do to him, despite how he appears to be able to handle anything.
“Classic 2006 Nokia,” he says with a laugh. “This phone has survived falling off my motorcycle, being lost at the beach, and many other adventures. Everyone ridicules it, but an iPhone would’ve never survived. I’ll keep this till it dies.”
“I doubt you’ll need to wait long.”
“Funny. You wait and see.”
Glancing around, I realize I’ve again forgotten everything outside of us. Talking to Caleb is like being bubbled in our own private world.
After we say good-bye, I watch the door long after he disappears into class—until I realize I’m late. I nearly run toward my New Media class, which isn’t easy in a skirt. It’s not easy to read texts with my phone bouncing in my hand, either. The in-box is full.
MONICA SAYS: That didn’t look like any student escort I’ve seen before. Remember once a cabana boy always a cabana boy.
OLIVER: Whatever Monica just texted u, ignore and have fun. KERI: Hello! Introduce him to the rest of us?
MICHELLE: Boy hog!
TED: Just heard about ur “special mission.” After school, coffee?
ALICIA: I saw him first! J
Sometimes I really hate school.
CALEB
Only two months until school is out for the summer. I can do that, I can do that here. I keep telling myself this as I go through my first classes. The advanced courses are nothing new or overly challenging. The most challenging part of school is concentrating. The walled-in rooms, the closed windows and doors suffocate me. Some classes in Hawaii were held outside or in classrooms that didn’t have walls. The rooms and this monkey suit box me in, tighten around me, make it hard for me to breathe.
The Advanced English teacher sends me to the library to check out the class reading list. I want to kiss Ms. Landreth for letting me out, and I breathe the cool, wet air as if my life depends on it.
I pass students at first lunch, eating outside on benches or inside the glass-walled cafeteria. I have second lunch, but my stomach growls at the scent of pizza and turkey burgers. What I wouldn’t give for my surfboard, the North Shore, and my favorite plate lunch in a Styrofoam box.
It’s now common for eyes to turn toward me, hands to reach for cell phones, people to lean toward each other to comment. A few people have been friendly, but most Gaitlin Academy students just like to stare at the new guy.
I spot Kate sitting at a table, reading a book and breaking off pieces from a giant cookie. She has a forlorn expression that weighs her face and eyes downward.
“Hey,” I say, taking a few steps out of my course. I ignore the other people at her table, except for the guy across from her. I’ve seen this guy before, and my usual instinct for spotting danger has identified this one as a potential nuisance. Dad reminded me that I can’t fight here.
“Hi,” she says, brightening. Then she glances around, her movements showing her discomfort. “How is class going?”
I’m not expecting anything from her. Seemed the right thing to do was to come over and say hello. With the stares and awkwardness at the table, I’m regretting that. I should have kept walking.
“Fine. On my way to the library.”
She hops up fast, hitting her knee on the table. “I’ll show you where it is.”
“Aloha,” a red-headed girl at the table says with a wide smile. “Aloha?”
The girl leans forward and there’s a straight shot down her shirt. I look at Kate, who frowns at the girl.
“Do you really use the word aloha in Hawaii? It’s not just for the tourists?”
I nod and try to keep a condescending tone from creeping in. “Yes, we actually do.”
“Kate, you haven’t introduced us.” It’s the nuisance, of course.
“I’m Caleb,” I say, reaching my hand across the table. He perks up further, and he shakes with a firm grip that I increase as we stare into each other’s eyes. The girls around us are oblivious to the sizing up and challenges interplaying between us. He’s not a wimp, but he’s weaker than he wants to admit, even to himself.
“Ted Brackinton.”
The girls at the table now state their names, though I immediately forget them. The aloha girl reaches out to shake my hand, holding on longer than necessary.
I sense tension in Kate’s body. There’s a stiffness in her posture, and she watches without a smile, studying the faces around her. She doesn’t want me here among her friends.
I make a slight bow and say, “Nice to meet each of you. Kate, I can find the library just fine. See you later.”
I’m about to turn when the one guy—Ted—decides to speak again. Not a good idea, buddy.
“So you’re on a first-name basis with Kate. Surprising. I thought maybe you’d call her Ms. Monrovi, since you do work for her, right? The handyman?”
“Ted, good grief,” Kate says, taking a quick step away from him and closer to me.
“I work for her father, whom I do call Mr. Monrovi. If Kate wants me to be her handyman, I can do that.”
Ted’s eyes narrow with anger, and Kate doesn’t seem sure whether to be offended by what I say or to find it funny.
“Do you like construction? Handyman things?” I say innocently.
Ted scoffs. “I believe the house manager takes care of calling in the help.”
After this, I can’t resist. “Between you, me, and the rest of us, Ted, it’s starting to show. You’d better work out, or getting fat off Daddy might be harder to hide.”
The girls gasp. Kate bites her lip to keep from smiling. I see this from my peripheral vision, but my eyes remain locked on Ted. This clown thinks I don’t know exactly who he is. I’ve met his type a thousand times before.
Ted’s eyes blaze. I guess I’ve touched on a sensitive area of ol’ Ted’s psyche.
“I could grind your poor butt into the ground.”
“Who said I’m poor? Just because I work doesn’t mean I’m poor.”
“Please, Ted, stop this,” Kate says, moving in front of me.
I gently take her arms—her skin distracts me briefly—then I carefully guide her out of the way. She stares at me with a combination of surprise and frustration.
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